


why is half of me always some place close to you

by doloirs



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doloirs/pseuds/doloirs
Summary: That's the other thing, the scary part. Because it's not just that he has fallen for Seungcheol – it's that he is tentatively certain that Seungcheol has feelings for him, as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally supposed to be way shorter which is why the setting is super vague lol i hope things still makes some sense
> 
> i was listening to _all i need_ by foxes while writing this which is where the title is from!! also i'm on [tumblr](http://seventeenrockmp3.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/jconghans) so add me if u wanna

It's quarter past two and they're at a noisy bar downtown, _Lagoon_ or something equally stupid, complete with blaring remixes of Top 40 hits and overpriced liquor and men with shiny watches and musky aftershave, eyes roaming the crowd as they skulk on the sidelines of the dance floor. The same dance floor Junhui has made his home, sweat glistening down the nape of his neck as he sways and swivels his hips with the inflated confidence of someone who has downed five tequila shots in one evening.

It's quarter past two and Jeonghan's having the worst time of his life. He's gone from pleasantly buzzed to stone cold sober after some slimy asshole tried to feel him up at the counter, and even in the constant barrage of sights, sensations and sounds, he's bored out of his mind and stifling a yawn every other minute. It doesn't help that _this was his idea_ , to celebrate Soonyoung's birthday at some club where he could drink himself into a stupor and pretend to flirt with nameless, faceless guys, if only to dissolve Jisoo's suspicions about his recent lack of a love life.

The thought of it makes Jeonghan feel pathetic. To think that he's reached a point where he's keeping things from his best friend – not just a best friend, _Jisoo_ , the boy with whom he came close to making a blood oath once at the embarrassing age of eleven, only they couldn't find a knife sharp enough.

It's nineteen minutes past two and Jeonghan's ordering a cab in the only moderately quiet room in the entire club. Still, there's lots of borderline shouting and parroting back and forth, and the dispatcher sounds annoyed by the time the call suddenly disconnects. Jeonghan utters a string of curse words under his breath, each more vicious than other, but he doesn't bother redialing. Instead, he finds Junhui and dances to a couple more songs together before yelling something about the bathroom.

Soonyoung and Jisoo are at the counter, screaming into each other's ear, the former no doubt debating on ordering some disgusting shot that will make him either pass out or run for the nearest bathroom (or both), all the while Jisoo is trying to be the voice of reason. Jeonghan tells them that he's leaving, and _no, he's fine_ , and _yeah, he's just tired_ , and _keep Soonyoung from doing anything too stupid_. Jisoo seems to be searching for something in his expression, but Soonyoung sweeps his into a hug that smells of an impending hangover, too drunk for apprehension, and Jeonghan tells him happy birthday one more time before he's gone.

By the time he's retrieved his jacket from the coatroom and wrestled his way out of the stifling mass of people, he's determined to brave another Saturday night in the big city and walk home. The streets are a mix of raucous voices and cigarette smoke, of angry car horns and the smell of takeout, and although it's not a particularly cold night, after the heat of the club Jeonghan is left shivering. He doesn't like the cold, but it's enough to shake off the sleepy haze of the alcohol and to make his senses more alert.

He's not even two blocks away from the bar when a voice calls out his name. He glances back to see Seungcheol, standing in front of a recently closed office supply store in his running gear, looking as out of breath as Jeonghan suddenly feels.

”Seungcheol”, he says, stating the obvious. ”Are you... running at 2:30 in the morning?”

Seungcheol shrugs with sheepish smile, ”couldn't sleep.”

”Most of us just try reading a book.”

”Did that, too.” Seungcheol jogs over, and Jeonghan's eyes dart between his soft-looking hoodie (God, he's jealous) and the light sheen of sweat on his face. ”Were you at a bar or something?”

Jeonghan realizes that Seungcheol's looking at his clothes - a ridiculously tight pair of skinny jeans and a somewhat sheer v-neck that shows off his collarbones. Not usually one to feel self-conscious about his appearance, Jeonghan suddenly does. Seungcheol has a way of making him feel hyperaware of himself.

”Yeah”, he says. ”Soonyoung's birthday is tomorrow so we went to Lagoon. I got tired.”

”And you're headed home? By yourself?” Seungcheol sounds like the rational voice in the back of his head, like a prelude to one of his mother's _Is that really wise?_ lectures that he was forced to attend whenever his teenage self was threatening to do something reckless.

Too much like his teenage self, Jeonghan rolls his eyes. ”You're free to walk me home, Cheol”, he says, aware that regardless of any pretense of inconvenience, he can trust Seungcheol to trail after him as he walks off. Sure enough, there are silent footsteps behind him before Seungcheol speeds up to match his step, an all-too comforting presence at his side that makes Jeonghan painfully aware of just how alone he was before.

With the recent onslaught of schoolwork, they haven't really spoken in a while. There have been fleeting text conversations, mostly superficial in their content, but those have little to do with the real Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Lately, though, Jeonghan has no idea what that actually means. Since their first encounter over two years ago in the autumn of their freshman year (and for a moment Jeonghan thinks of the black-haired boy in an oversized t-shirt that had some nonsensical English words printed on it, lounging in the seat next to him in Introduction to Psychology, chewing on a green pencil with his eyes glazed over), they've gone from strangers to casual acquaintances to friends, and not long after their friendship ignited, so did the realization that he was in love with Seungcheol Choi.

For Jeonghan, love has always been a difficult concept to grasp. He loves his family and friends, sure – but romantic love, the kind people write songs about, has always seemed to him like some sort of a benevolent mass hallucination. It's a concept he is intrigued by but isn't sure he wants to experience – not if it will turn him into one of those people, the ones with that mysterious glint (real or imagined) in their eye, saying things like _you'll know it when you feel it_.

And yet.

”You drunk?”

When Jeonghan looks at Seungcheol, he's staring back, annoyingly perceptive. ”Not really”, Jeonghan says. ”Started too early, sobered up too soon.”

”Good. I'm not staying at your house all night to make sure you don't throw up in your sleep.”

”You and I both know you would.”

A smile quirks at Seungcheol's lips, which Jeonghan takes as affirmation. That's the other thing, the scary part. Because it's not just that he has fallen for Seungcheol – it's that he is tentatively certain that Seungcheol has feelings for him, as well. Which means that Jeonghan can't simply dismiss this as one of his personal problems, to suffer in silence.

”Did you at least have fun?” Seungcheol asks, and as they stop at a red light, a group of loud, drunken people stumble past them across the street. Two cars honk angrily in response.

”It was okay. Aside from the part where Junhui was trying to fix me up with some banker he met at the smoker's lounge.”

”What was wrong with him?”

”It was implied he wanted to trade investment tips for sexual favors.”

”Sounds like a deal”, Seungcheol remarks dryly, and Jeonghan laughs. He can rarely have a night out with Junhui without the Chinese boy trying to fix him up with someone, to a point where he feels a bit like a glorified pet project. Jisoo usually doesn't join in, which makes Jeonghan wonder if he knows, on some level at least. It would explain the way Jisoo looks at him, sometimes, when he mentions Seungcheol – like he's trying to see through tinted glass.

They talk little during their walk. It's not entirely unusual for them to be quiet around each other, but it is unusual for the silence to feel so oppressive. Yet once they reach Jeonghan's apartment building, he doesn't feel relieved at the prospect of goodbyes. Instead, there's a sense of urgency behind his words as he says:

”It's late. You can stay over, if you want.”

Seungcheol glances down at himself. ”I'm kind of sweaty, though...”

”Believe it or not, I do have a shower”, Jeonghan says. As it turns out, it's hard to sound indifferent yet welcoming at the same time. ”And some clothes that should fit you.”

Seungcheol looks at him for a moment, and Jeonghan's heart is hammering out of his chest, because in a weird way it seems like this is about more than a friendly sleepover. _You're overanalyzing, as usual_ , he tells himself, but the acknowledgement alone does little to help.

”Okay”, Seungcheol says at last. The placid smile on his face is telling Jeonghan nothing. _As usual._

While Seungcheol is in the shower, Jeonghan shimmies out of his clubbing clothes that manage to smell like alcohol even without any spills on them. Luna is wandering around the small one-bedroom apartment, unused to and a little irate at being woken up at such a late hour. As Jeonghan pours himself a glass of water, the cat keeps circling around him, brushing against his leg every now and then. It's quarter past three now, and Jeonghan blinks to ward off the exhaustion that is making his head heavy and his limbs feel loose.

Seungcheol pads into the kitchen, dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt that are ridiculously baggy on Jeonghan but fit his wider frame well enough. It feels painfully domestic, seeing Seungcheol in his apartment like this, damp hair and barefooted and all, like he belongs there. He's got Luna scooped up in his arms and is scratching her behind the ear while the cat purrs like a freight train, and Jeonghan has to look away before he does something stupid.

”You hungry? I've got frozen pizza”, he says.

"Fuck, _yes_ ", Seungcheol says with wide eyes, and Jeonghan is fighting back a fond smile, afraid to seem like he's swooning. "I'm starving."

”Good. Turn on the oven while I go wash my face.”

Scrubbing off the remains of his BB cream and eyeliner feels liberating. In the bathroom mirror, Jeonghan's reflection stares back at him, pallid and a little feverish. _Get it together_ , he mouths to himself. His reflection might as well be busy juggling plates, for all the difference it makes.

Without the sound of running water, his ears start to pick up sounds from the apartment. There's Luna, meowing plaintively in a telltale signal that she's about to use the litter box. Seungcheol seems to be on the phone, judging by the low muffled speech coming from the other room, and Jeonghan wonders who could be calling him at three-thirty in the morning.

”...Yeah, he's fine”, Seungcheol says, glancing up as Jeonghan enters the kitchen. ”No, he's not drunk. Not really.” It's only then that Jeonghan realizes Seungcheol is on _his_ phone. ”We ran into each other downtown. I walked him home. He's back now, do you wanna talk to him?”

Even from a distance, Jeonghan recognizes Jisoo's voice on the other end of the line. Seungcheol's giving him that unnerving stare people tend to do while talking about someone in front of them, and Jeonghan half-expects the older boy to hand him the phone, only he doesn't.

”Okay. I'll let him know. Goodnight, Jisoo.” He hangs up. ”That was Jisoo.”

”Yeah, I kind of figured”, Jeonghan says, not unkindly. ”What was he calling for?”

”He wanted to check up on you”, Seungcheol replies, and Jeonghan takes the phone from his outstretched hand. ”He said you left kinda abruptly and he got worried.”

”Oh, for the love of... I told him I was fine”, Jeonghan mutters, more flustered than annoyed, because he can only imagine what Jisoo thinks about Seungcheol being at his place at this hour, answering his phone. ”He's gonna have a field day with this.”

He's somewhat past the conversation in his head, focused on the trivial task of peeling the plastic wrapper off a frozen slab of mozzarella pizza, when Seungcheol speaks.

”What do you mean?”

It takes Jeonghan a moment to connect Seungcheol's words to his previous ones. Once he does, his heart stutters, because there's a very easy way he could brush it off as a mindless comment, followed up with something casual like _by the way, can you get a sheet pan?_. The opportunity is right there, it's within his grasp, and yet...

”I think I might be in love with you.” It's not what he meant to say, not by a long shot, but it's there. No takebacks. Each time Jeonghan thought about this moment, he expected to feel mortified, to beg for the earth to swallow him whole. Now that the truth is out in the open in all its tentative _I think_ , _I might_ glory, though, he just feels defiant. _Ignore me, reject me. I dare you._

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time. Jeonghan ends up getting the damn sheet pan, himself, because the silence is suffocating and frankly, he's never needed something to do with his hands this badly. Once his menial task is done, though, the pizza is in the oven and no amount of staring will make it cook faster, the fact that Seungcheol still hasn't spoken becomes unbearable.

”If you're thinking of a way to turn me down, just get it over with”, Jeonghan says, striving for his usual, superficially carefree drawl. It ends up sounding more like a plead – _just put me out of my damn misery._

”Jeonghan, you know I wouldn't do that.” Seungcheol's across the tiny kitchen in three steps, his body _so close_ yet stopping short, like a hand hovering over a flame. And Jeonghan does know, but sometimes it's easier to tell himself otherwise. Certain misery over uncertain hope, he thinks.

”I love you”, and Seungcheol's voice is so stable, his gaze unflinching as he looks at him. Jeonghan's stomach does a sickening flip, as though he's in freefall. An icy wave washes over him, followed by the white-hot heart of a flame. No one has ever spoken those words to him, not with so much conviction, such genuine feeling. From his friends, it's always been followed by _but_ , a throwaway statement to soften the blow of the words to come. His family is more tactile in showing their affection, rarely one for verbal declarations of love.

Hysterical laughter is bubbling in his throat, and all Jeonghan manages to choke out is, ”took you long enough.” He finds he's not just talking about tonight and the strenuous pause between his clumsy confession and Seungcheol's reciprocation. There's a ridiculous smile playing on Jeonghan's lips as he leans in, and although he's kissed people quite a few times before ( _adolescent makeout sessions in empty classrooms and his old bedroom and eventually in back alleys behind night clubs_ ), this is different, this is new.

Through the chapped lips and hushed breaths for air, Jeonghan feels Seungcheol's hand graze his. Their fingers intertwine, and the simple squeeze feels inexplicably comforting, all the while Seungcheol's thumb draws featherweight circles around his knuckle. It's soft cotton and a shower fresh Seungcheol and the smell of pesto and tomatoes – it's the heat of the oven and heavy eyelids and the edge of the kitchen counter digging into his tailbone, and Jeonghan can hardly believe he gets to have this, that it's not just another saccharine-sweet daydream filled with longing.

”The oven”, is the only thing he says as they break apart, because Jeonghan is never too lost in the moment to remember a potential fire hazard. Seungcheol huffs a laugh, stepping back to give him space as he grabs a pair of oven mitts and gets the pizza (still a little undercooked, but to be honest, Jeonghan's not even that hungry anymore). He grabs two beers from the fridge, and they have a very late dinner – or an early breakfast, depending on your point of view – , sipping their drinks and struggling not to burn their mouths on the scalding hot cheese. In the wake of too much emotion for one night, Jeonghan is, quite frankly, exhausted and content to finish his meal in weary yet comfortable silence.

It's quarter past five and he's brushing his teeth in the bathroom, all but ready to crash. He lets Seungcheol borrow his toothbrush, because sharing one seems considerably less gross after kissing. It's the first time Seungcheol has stayed over, but it feels like an old routine, worn and frayed at the edges, but comfortable and just the right fit. Which is why neither of them questions it as Seungcheol shuffles after Jeonghan into the quiet dark of the bedroom.

They curl up on his queen-sized bed, lying side to side just out of each other's reach, and with his eyes closed Jeonghan finally murmurs:

”Why didn't you respond right away?”

He can feel, rather than see, Seungcheol's shrug. ”I thought it might complicate things”, Seungcheol says, and there's a nervous note to his voice as he continues, ”I mean... what we have is pretty good. I didn't want to risk ruining it.”

Jeonghan hums in quiet affirmation. Seungcheol is not entirely wrong, and he would know if he lied. ”I think we can do better, though”, Jeonghan speaks instead, _sotto voce_ , and his eyes flutter open. The orange glow of the streetlight below paints a streak across the older boy's collarbone, but Seungcheol's eyes are like dark water, fixed on his. Seungcheol says nothing, but reaches gently for a piece of Jeonghan's long ash-blonde hair, pressing his lips against the strands. It feels a lot like a promise.

Between his long-sleeved shirt and the duvet and Seungcheol's body heat, it's a little too warm in the bed. Even so, Jeonghan drifts to sleep quickly, with Seungcheol's fingers laced in his and his heartbeat a steady thrum against his skin.


End file.
